Thranduil turned to look at their surroundings, eyes scanning for anything, finding nothing. Only the halls and their decorations, gaudy furnishings and opulent arched ceilings strewn with bits of plants.

"Something else, at least, has brought us here." There was no reason to assume... but yes, there was. Thranduil paused mid thought and turned to look at Legolas, more completely. That was not what he had been wearing a few moments past - it was, in fact, nothing he recognized at all.

Was he, in fact, his son? Or was this the creature whose power had brought him here, clothed in a familiar form? He is already standing tall but somehow seems to pull himself up without moving, a mantle of cool dignity settling around him as he looks down at Legolas, suddenly looking for imperfections, for something that did not seem right.